Chapter 1 - THE PHOTOGRAPH HE WANTED ME TO FORGET
The sound of the photograph tearing was barely louder than a whisper.
But to me, it sounded like something breaking forever.
I was eleven years old.
And the photograph Robert tore in half was the last picture I had of my mother.
Mom and I were standing on a beach.
Her dark hair was blowing across her face.
She was laughing.
I had both arms wrapped around her waist.
Every time I looked at that picture, I could almost remember the smell of sunscreen and saltwater.
Then Robert saw it.
“I told you to stop carrying that around.”
I pulled the photograph closer.
“It’s my mom.”
Vanessa stood behind him.
My stepmother.
At least that was what everyone called her.
She had married Dad less than a year after Mom disappeared.
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“You need to let the past go, Lily.”
I looked at her.
“I don’t want to.”
“You have a new family now.”
“I already had a family.”
Her mouth tightened.
Robert stepped closer.
Robert was Vanessa’s older brother.
He had moved into our guesthouse three months earlier because, according to Vanessa, he was “helping with the family business.”
But Robert did not act like a guest.
He told me what to wear.
What friends were acceptable.
When I could talk about Mom.
And lately, what I was supposed to call Vanessa.
“Call her Mom,” he said.
“No.”
“Lily.”
“No.”
Vanessa smiled without warmth.
“You’re being childish.”
“I’m a child.”
Robert’s expression hardened.
Then he took the picture.
I grabbed for it.
“Robert, please.”
He pulled it away.
And tore it straight down the middle.
Mom’s smiling face separated from mine.
I stared.
Then dropped to my knees.
I picked up the pieces.
Vanessa said:
“Maybe now she’ll learn.”
I ran.
Upstairs.
Past the family portraits Vanessa had replaced.
Past the empty space where Mom’s picture used to hang.
Into my bedroom.
I slammed the door.
Locked it.
Then sat on the floor and cried.
My stuffed bear was on the bed.
Brown fur.
One crooked ear.
A faded blue ribbon.
Mom had given him to me three days before she disappeared.
She called him Henry.
“Keep him safe, Lily.”
I had thought she meant because he was special.
Now, shaking, I pressed the tiny bump beneath his left paw.
I had found it accidentally the night before.
A blue light appeared.
My tablet chimed.
Then Mom appeared on the screen.
I stopped breathing.
She looked thinner.
Scared.
But alive.
At least when the video had been recorded.
“Lily,” she said softly, “if you’re seeing this, then I didn’t get the chance to explain.”
I covered my mouth.
Mom continued:
“If your father ever sees this, show him the brass key inside Henry.”
My hands moved immediately.
There was a hidden zipper beneath the bear’s fur.
Inside:
A tiny brass key.
Then Mom said:
“It opens the door in the basement.”
My heart started pounding.
“Do not let Robert find it first.”
I froze.
Robert.
Mom knew Robert?
Years before he “came back”?
The bedroom door rattled.
“Lily?”
Dad.
I unlocked it.
The second he saw my face, his expression changed.
“What happened?”
I handed him the torn photograph.
His jaw tightened.
“Who did this?”
“Robert.”
Dad closed his eyes.
Then I showed him Mom’s video.
Halfway through, Vanessa appeared in the hallway.
“What is that?”
Dad did not answer.
Robert came behind her.
Mom’s voice filled the room.
“Do not let Robert find it first.”
Robert went pale.
Vanessa immediately said:
“That footage is old. She was confused.”
Dad looked at her.
“Why would she mention Robert?”
Vanessa’s eyes flicked toward her brother.
Robert said:
“I don’t know.”
I held out the key.
Dad took it.
We went downstairs.
Robert followed.
“Daniel, stop.”
Dad kept walking.
“There’s nothing in the basement.”
Dad finally turned.
“Then you won’t mind if I look.”
Robert stopped.
At the far back wall, behind shelving, Dad found a narrow wooden door.
I had never noticed it.
The brass key fit.
Click.
Cold air moved from the darkness.
Inside was a room.
Small.
Dusty.
No windows.
A suitcase sat on the floor.
Letters rested on top.
Dad picked up the first.
Mom’s handwriting.
On the envelope:
For Lily’s father—if Robert ever comes back.
Robert stepped backward.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Dad tore it open.
The first line read:
Daniel, Robert did not come into our lives by accident. He is the reason I disappeared.
May you like
Dad looked up slowly.
And Robert ran.
